


Can't

by Greenerscreams



Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Angst, Insanity, Newt-centric, Other, The Flare, Wicked - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-21
Updated: 2017-01-21
Packaged: 2018-09-18 22:40:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9405965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Greenerscreams/pseuds/Greenerscreams
Summary: Newt has the Flare, and his days are numbered.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I was sad when i wrote this

He Itched. His head ached, a low thump ever since the Scorch. Felt it getting worse during the weeks in WICKED’s compound. It made him angry, made him see things that weren’t there, and miss things that were. It wasn’t bad, not yet, but he knew it would get worse. The Flare couldn’t be cured, couldn’t be stopped.  
There were drugs that could lessen the effects. The Bliss would separate him from the monster eating his brain. Make him distant from everyone he cared for. He needed to spend as much time with them as he could while he was still sane, before he passed the Gone.  
__  
Today was one of those days. He wakes up in the middle of a fight with a much bigger, and much farther infected Crank. He goes into overdrive, striking with hands and feet until the woman is unconscious, and he is smeared with her disgusting blood.  
He doesn’t want to feel anything anymore. He wants to be gone, far from the Burning and the fear, the feeling of his body breaking beneath him. There is nothing left for him, but there is no other options. Just that tiny hope that Thomas, one of his only friends, will kill him.  
It was a morbid hope, but it was the only one he had. There would be no cure. There was no magic fairy that would stop the disease rampaging through him. All he could do was wait, and pray for the universe to align and for Tommy to save him.  
__  
The bowling alley was dark, and he was glad for it. He doesn’t want to be reminded of what he is. The darkness does nothing for the smell, or the sounds, but he can pretend that those don’t exist. They could be hallucinations. He has so many of them these days, as unavoidable as the Flare itself. He can tell himself that it isn’t real, but it’s hard to hold onto that belief when guards come to talk to him. He tells them in no uncertain terms, that he doesn’t want to see anyone. Especially not Minho. He couldn’t bear it.  
But they come anyway. Newt can hear them, but he doesn’t turn around. He doesn’t want them to see him like this. But they keep pressing, and he is angry. They look so trusting, so desperate, and he hates them for it. Hates Thomas, for not reading the note. Not doing the most important thing he has ever asked of him.  
The launcher is heavy in his hands.  
He is slipping, barely aware of what he says. It must work, because Tommy is pulling on Minho, trying to pull his dearest friend away from this awful place. Newt tells himself not to care, but his traitorous heart shatters anyway.  
__  
The cranks break out of the Palace. He follows, having nothing better to do. They fight sometimes, but Newt doesn’t care. He is gone, blank, for hours at a time, and it is almost a relief. His body aches, Burning, but he can’t really feel it. Can’t feel much of anything, anymore.  
__  
Thomas steps out of the van. Newt can’t help the fury that rises in him. He just wanted it to end.  
He knew he must be a mess, from days of wandering and fighting. Knows the disease must be apparent in his stumbling shuffle, the slurred words falling from his mouth. But it doesn’t matter. Tommy recognizes him, and now it’s done to two options.  
Newt will die, or Tommy will.  
He can’t hear himself, just feel the spit flying from his mouth as he straddles Thomas. He doesn’t know how he got there, but there is just enough sanity left for one more push. He can feel Thomas tense as he grabs the gun, pulling it hard against his forehead. He can feel him shaking, can see tears threatening to spill. But he doesn’t give up. Can’t give up.  
He is yanked harshly back into reality. The gravity of the situation hits him like a freight train, and he can feel his own heartbeat in his head. He whispers three words, desperate, drained of any bit of fight.  
Tommy goes limp, and Newt closes his eyes.  
Nothing happens, not for several moments. He lets go of whatever is left of-

**Author's Note:**

> Criticism and comments apreciated


End file.
